


The Perfect Shade

by OvereducatedAndOverworked



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 02:50:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6497905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OvereducatedAndOverworked/pseuds/OvereducatedAndOverworked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if you couldn't see the color that symbolized your soulmate?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tyrian Purple

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hollyspacey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hollyspacey/gifts).



> This is a new soulmate AU, inspired by a comment by AmazonX, and expanded upon by Hollyspacey. You can't see the color that is your soulmate's signature color until you see them wearing it, or otherwise associated with it. Enjoy!

Natasha had been told since she was young by her handlers how grateful she should be that her soulmate's color was a deep, rich violet. Violet meant nothing: it was not important like the deep stain of blood, not menacing like the silver flash of a steel gun, not a danger like the swift, treacherous black of a fellow Widow. It simply was: a deep violet shade, almost electric in its intensity. It was beautiful, they said, but beauty meant nothing until it was weaponized. She had no idea what the color looked like, but she knew its name: Tyrian purple. A color so precious, so prized, that men died for the right to wear it. A single garment took the death of thousands of animals to create, the work of many men to achieve, and cost more than some made in a lifetime. Throughout history, it had been the ticket to authority; a deeply-dyed toga or a pigmented sash was the difference between powerful and powerless.

She wondered what that meant of him. Was he powerful? Royalty? Rich? Had she stolen the life from his breast, unknowing that he had the power to change her fate, to give her choice? Or perhaps she was simply one unmatched: a person whose soul would forever be alone, left to a fate of forever seeing some beautiful shade as a deep gray. After all, who was she—a killer, a liar, a thief—to have a match for her very soul? That is, if she still had a soul, after all her awful deeds, after she'd stained her ledger such a deep red. She had no hope that she deserved such a blessing, so she pushed it out of her mind, focusing on surviving as she was hunted by her former trainers.

She ignored it, until she was no longer given the option. Until she was pointing the barrel of her gun at the shade she had never before seen. She sucked in a breath, repressed her gasp, and looked up. She was holding a gun to her soulmate's heart, the barrel pressed hard against his deep violet chest-plate as he held an arrow to her head. She did not know who he was or how he found her, but she heard his words: "I'm here to give you a choice." If the man the universe had decided was her soulmate was willing to be stupid enough not to kill her immediately, she would take the mercy. She slowly lowered her gun, dropped it to the floor, and took his outstretched hand.


	2. Petal Pink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wiki pages doesn't include much about Clint's past in the Avengers timeline, so I tried to incorporate little bits and pieces of his past from the comics. I hope I was at least mostly accurate!

Clint had always daydreamed about what his soulmate was like. He used it as a way to escape. The color he was missing was a light, light pink, or so his mother told him. As he laid aching at night, sore from his father's hands, he would fall asleep dreaming about his lovely soulmate. She was a she, he was certain; only a girl would love a color so very girly. And she was as well: someone light and playful, giggly and ready for an adventure.

At the circus, after his life had fallen apart and he's had to rebuild it, he always enjoyed watching the acrobats. He loved to watch them flying through the air, their costumes a blur of gray. He would daydream about her: perhaps they would meet at the circus, and could perform together. His soulmate would be graceful, he was sure, and talented, and understood that no matter how many terrible cards life handed him, they would be able to face it together.

As his job changed from entertaining people to ending them, he grew hopeless of ever meeting his other half. At the age of 39, 95% of people had already met or identified their soulmate, and he was still all alone. He had been careful, too: every mission, he would personally look through his target's belongings, and monitor them so closely even Coulson thought it was excessive. His handlers thought it was because he was extra thorough, which he was praised for, but no. This was driven by raw, powerful fear. Even as his job consisted of murder, he refused to risk the chance that the life he was ending was the one he was supposed to live 'happily ever after' with. Yes, even after all these years, and all that he'd done, he still wanted a happy ending. Foolish, perhaps, but he still held a sliver of hope.

Life changed after finding Nat. She was beautiful, and a wonderful friend, but so cold. The moment he talked about anything in his past (not that he did often, it was a sore spot for him, but it was worth it to tell her), she shut down. Even when the information was vital to their missions, even to their survival, she only told him the bare minimum and moved on. He couldn't blame her: after she had been brought in, and was still being cleared, he had read her horror story of a file. If she never wanted to disclose the stories to him herself, that was alright.

And yet, he learned about her. He learned that she drank her vodka straight, but had a quiet love for frappuccinos. She hated to wear emerald green, because it had been her handler's favorite color to put her in for seduction missions, but had a special affection for dark purple. She still had nightmares about what she's done (who didn't?), but the easiest way to lull her back to sleep was to sing her an old Russian lullaby, which made her fitful sleep become peaceful. And somewhere along the way, without even realizing it, he fell in love. He cursed himself, knowing that it was completely unfair to his soulmate to fall in love with another woman, but it had happened. There was no taking it back now.

It wasn't until the mission in Budapest that it had all made sense. It was all so simple: Nat posed as a ballerina with the St. Petersburg Ballet Theatre to get close to the target, as he went undercover as her teacher. She infiltrated the company, befriended the ballerina who was part of the Russian mafia, drugged her drink so she would collapse during the performance, and in the ensuring chaos, Clint would extract her. He checked his watch, and saw that it was almost time for the performance to start. He usually hated ballets (with so much pink, half of what he saw was gray), but it would be interesting to see Nat dance. She had once offhandedly mentioned that she enjoyed ballet, he believed because she saw it as one positive from her time in the Red Room, but he had never seen her dance. She always insisted on having complete silence and privacy as she practiced. Clint noticed the lights had dimmed, and the curtains were opening onstage.

The first thing he saw was Natasha, beautifully poised at the center of the stage. He was watching her dance so closely, he almost didn't notice that the stage had gone from monochrome to bright. He leaned backwards in shock. How could he now see his soulmate's color? Was she on the stage at this very moment? But all he had seen was Natasha! And with that, the pieces had fallen into place. For once, he and the universe had agreed. It had given him a gift that he would truly enjoy. He was so consumed in his thoughts that he had hardly noticed the girl on stage collapse, chaos stirring in the theater. All he knew is that, before he could control himself, he had walked over to the place where Tasha was feigning feeling faint, and he took her hand. As they walked out of the theater, he looked down at their interlocking hands and smiled. Finally, truly, he would have a home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All character/color/pairing suggestions are welcome.


End file.
